Zombies Vs Fairytales
by Trins xxx
Summary: Regina would never have believed that the world could be so blind, people so self-involved, that a zombie apocalypse could occur without anyone realising it if it hadn't happened to her. She was stuck in a Zombie apocalypse - how is she going to survive it! - AU Season 1 from when Emma tries to leave Storybrooke with Henry. Not Swan Queen.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer****: **I don't own Once Upon a Time, or characters from any franchise that might make cameos in this story.

**Author's Note****: **This takes place in Season 1, the point at which Emma tries to run away from Storybrooke with Henry. It will be somewhat of a Regina, Emma and Henry heavy story, with considerable input from all of the other characters. This will not be Swan Queen. I haven't decided on Emma's pairing just yet. It will also be sympathetic to Regina's character but above all, it will be a Zombie Apocalypse story! It's meant to be taken with several grains of salt, with a good going dose of humour in the story.

**Read and Review****:** Tell me what you loved about it and what you hated. Above all, tell me how I can improve it!

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><p><span>Zombies vs Fairytales<span>

Day 1 of Shit Hitting the Fan

'_The reason why so few good books are written is that so few people who can write know anything.'_

Walter Bagehot

Regina would never have believed it. It just _didn't_ happen in real life like it happened in the movies. Apocalypses and end-of-the-world scenarios didn't just spring up on one – after all, in a world of e-mails and google, 24 hour news channels and text messages, what are the chances of something big, like the undead walking, happening without a hashtag on twitter or an update on facebook?

That's right. Regina would never have believed that the world could be so blind, people so self-involved, that a zombie apocalypse could occur without anyone realising it if it hadn't happened to her.

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't bitter about it. She was bitter, scared for herself, terrified for her son and more than happy to blame Emma Swan for the mess she now found herself in. If the blonde hadn't come back, tried to win Henry back and ended her run of rash, rude and largely foolish behaviour by kidnapping her son and leaving with him, Regina wouldn't have left Storybrooke for the metropolitan, only to find mass hysteria surrounding her and slowly threatening to take over her own emotions.

Her driving had always been civil, a strong contrast to her personality, but after getting stuck in standstill traffic and having her car scratched by an erratic, unnerved man as he drove off in the opposite direction, her civility (and maybe her sanity?) had snapped. Letting out a growl of frustration (because she had to find her son, she _had_ to), she had left the roads completely, driving in the grassy areas that surrounded the roads, still travelling south-west towards the nearest large city.

She had aggressively driven her way into the city with no appreciation of the petrified frenzy that assaulted her eyes. In her defence, twenty-eight years of driving around Storybrook, with two excursions via public transport to Chicago, wasn't particularly educative about normal driving habits in normal, non-magical towns and cities. Either way, she had driven with blissful ignorance into a city that was imploding in upon itself.

She had somehow reached the downtown area, parked outside the police station and made her way in without seeing any of the zombies overtaking the city. Or rather, not noticing them, Regina corrected herself. She was honest enough to realise that her mind, occupied with fears of losing her son to the birth mother that had given him up so readily mingled with the awful realisation that she had come to love someone so completely again, was disturbed and hardly as focused as she liked to think it ordinarily was. The notion that she could lose the one person that she continued to love was enough for her to be wholly consumed by the internal nightmares that raged dramatically in front of her mind's eye.

It's the only explanation she can find for how she ended up in a police station, blood, guts, gore and god knows what else smeared across the walls and floor like an inglorious graffiti, facing a room full of zombies that had clearly worked in the roles of police officers. It took her several seconds to blink and take in the dripping red vision in front of her, and several more seconds for the synapses in her brain to fire sufficiently to comprehend what her eyes beheld. She had no time to scream – rather, she was dumbstruck, staring at the zombies making slow and steady progress towards her, her jaw fully slack.

Those seconds, however, were enough for her inherent survival instincts to kick in. Making a gargled, garbled sound that died barely before it left her throat, she turned around and ran out of the police station she had stormed into moments earlier.

She didn't regret her choice of clothing – her skirt was just fine for running. Kicking zombies might have been easier in trousers but she had no intention of getting close enough to kick one. Her shoes, on the other hand... Her heels weren't difficult to run in or uncomfortable. Twenty-eight years of wearing the same style of shoes had inured her feet to their arches and the pressure points. What hadn't occurred to her was the noise running in the heels would create, since she had never truly considered the possibility of being stuck around zombies. The pitter patter of her heels as she scuttled across the road attracted the attention of the zombies close enough to hear her, like moths to a light, and those that couldn't hear the sounds nevertheless followed the zombies that did.

Her muscles were burning with the lactic acid, her chest aching from the insufficient air she was able to breathe in as she ran, but she pushed herself. She had to live, if for no other reason than to make sure her baby boy was safe. She ran and ran, breaths feeling more suffocating than helpful and she thrust herself right around the corner only to skid to a horrifying stop. She saw another group of zombies, attracted by the sounds she had made, making their way towards her as the ones she was running from came up from behind her.

She was surrounded.

She swallowed back a sob and blinked away tears as she was stunned into silence for the second time within minutes. When her mind stuttered back into work, she was hit by the foolish thought that she shouldn't have wasted all that time and all those years watching the X-Files and Science Fiction about aliens. Maybe if she'd watched a zombie movie or two, read a few comics or books on it, she might have had a chance to survive today.

She took in a shuddering breath. She wasn't that person, the one that admitted defeat. She fought tooth and nail against every injustice done to her and sure, she'd dished out plenty of injustice in her own time. But she hadn't blackened her heart, lost both parents and a true love, given up her memories to love her son so fully and completely, only to die at the hands or teeth of some pathetic idiots who had managed to become zombies. Hell no – she was a fighter and she would be one to the very last second of life she had.

Standing up straight and jutting out her stubborn chin, she glanced behind her. The zombies were dangerously close to surrounding her and she wasn't sure going into any of the buildings would be safe. It might offer her shelter from the ones outside but she had no way of knowing how many of the undead were inside. There were a couple of roads diverging to the left and right in front of her, but she would have to go through the herd of zombies, which wasn't a particularly viable option.

She took in another breath, the stench surrounding her and filling her inside and out. It was sickening. She glanced across the road, her eyes catching a glimpse of a fire escape leading to the roof of the building. There were some zombies around there but, glancing briefly backwards and finding the walking pieces of rotting flesh much closer than she had realised, it was decidedly her best option.

She made a run for it, her heels clicking rhythmically on the tarmac. She managed to avoid the grabbing hands of two zombies coming behind her as she crossed the road. She eyed the stairs. There was one zombie between the walls of the building and the stairs, a further two to its right which had turned to face her and four behind the stairs. She disregarded the four – they were of little threat. And the one on the left hadn't turned to face her yet but the two on the right were slowly making their way towards her, inching their way into blocking a straight run at the stairs. She glanced around herself again – they were all slowly surrounding her and the stairs were her best chance.

Licking her lips, she wiped the sweat from her face with trembling hands. It was her only chance at this point.

_For Henry_, she thought and then ran towards the stairs, hoping to reach them without a scratch or a bite on her, now regretting choosing a skirt over trousers.

She was within arm's reach of the two zombies between her and the stairs when what she belatedly realised that the door on her left had opened. She didn't have time to utter a sound as arms grabbed and pulled her into the building, the smell of blood and dead flesh filling her lungs and the bile bubbling up her stomach.

She could barely mutter an 'ouch' as she felt the skin on her right arm break before darkness surrounded her.

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><p>'<em>Henry<em>, what the hell?' Emma was breathing heavily as she gingerly touched the right side of her face, where she was sure a bruise was in the process of blooming. 'What did you that for?'

'You're leaving town?' Henry posed his own question instead.

'Yeah. You said you wanted me to be your mum, didn't you? It's what I'm doing – this is the best for you.' Her thudding heart was gradually calming down as Emma took stock of the state her car was likely to be in, after Henry had forcibly turned the steering wheel, crashing it into a tree. 'Are you okay?' She added as an afterthought, her eyes scanning him for any obvious injuries.

'I'm fine. But...how can you leave Storybrooke? What about the curse?'

'Henry, none of that matters. All that matters is you. And I'm doing what's best for you.'

'But,' Henry started, trying to make some sort of sense of his jumbled thoughts and emotions without any success. 'You have to break the curse. You have to bring their memories back and let them have their happily ever afters.'

'Henry,' Emma sighed. 'The most important thing is-'

'Running away?' interjected Henry, glaring at her openly now. 'But what about everyone in Storybrooke? You can't just run away...' He didn't add again. He didn't have to – she saw it clearly written across his face.

'It's not running away, Henry. It's running towards something this time.'

'Towards what?' He questioned sceptically.

'Towards home,' she replied simply.

It felt like it sucked the air out of Henry's lungs. _Home_... But what was home? He briefly pictured his room, with the blankets his mum had carefully looked after, the toys she'd bought for him and the games he'd spent many hours playing with. He thought about the times she'd tucked the blanket around him or told him off for leaving his shoes everywhere, the times she'd complained about always having to pick up his dirty clothes and...even the times she'd read bedtime stories and books to him. Even if he didn't like or trust his mum...she was still his _mum_ on some level. He didn't understand it himself, how he could think of her as the Evil Queen one moment, eager to escape from her to the mother that was good and _the saviour _and truly loved him, yet think of heras still his _mum_ the next moment. It was too confusing so he shied away from thinking about it any further.

'But I can't leave home,' he'd said out loud without realising it until her saw Emma's face fall.

'Henry, home is people. It's you and me,' she pleaded, eyes desperate to see the acceptance on his face. She saw everything else instead.

'But what about Mary Margaret? And Granny? And everyone else?' He'd pleaded with her instead.

She stared at him, long and hard, and then made her decision. 'Storybrooke is home for you,' she said slowly and evenly, weighing out each word carefully. 'So we'll make our home there.'

His beaming smile was all the answer she needed to know that she'd done the right thing. 'C'mon, let's see if my car still works.' She turned the key in the ignition, once, twice and was very pleased to hear the sounds of the engine coming to life on the third turn. She did a not so legal U-turn and started a slow drive back home.

'Why don't you stay with me tonight and we can sort out how to get you away from Regina tomorrow, okay?'

Henry happily agreed, contentment and relief filling him. He didn't question where or why the relief was there; he just knew that Storybrooke was his home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer****: **I don't own Once Upon A Time or Supernatural.

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><p><span>Zombies Vs Fairytales<span>

Day 2 of Shit Hitting the Fan

'_There are only two kinds of people who are really fascinating: people who know absolutely everything, and people who know absolutely nothing.'_

Oscar Wilde

'Don't make a sound.' The whisper was just loud enough for Regina to hear, though his lips were next to her ear. Her relief at not being grabbed by a zombie was quick to turn into anger. And somehow, despite having a stranger's hands clamped across her mouth, she could appreciate his sexy voice. It wouldn't stop her from turning him into mush, even if his looks did live up to his voice.

She gave a tiny nod, eyes rolling as she did. As if she didn't know better than to make the noise. The irritation was enough for her fingers to clench into a fist, though she carefully refrained herself from biting his hand. If he did one more thing to piss her off, though...

'Good,' his whisper gently brushed past her neck, hands slipping away quickly. 'You okay?'

Her nostrils flared. Was she _okay_? Who the hell _would_ be okay? Her eyes squinted, unable to see more than his vague outline; the only light in this building came from outside, creeping in between gaps in the curtains covering the windows. 'Yes, I'm fantastic,' her whisper fairly dripped with sarcasm. 'How about you? Want a cup of tea while we're at it?'

'I'm more of a coffee man but I'd drink tea, for _you_,' even in the dark, she could see the gleam in his teeth as he broke into a smile. Just her luck – stuck with a guy flirting like a teenager. And an idiotic hero complex, if his saving her was anything to go by.

'You really okay?' It was a little disturbing how swiftly his voice switched from flirting to serious. Regina found it even more disconcerting to find his fingers gently probing the injury in her left arm in an experienced manner. 'Were you bitten?' His tone was sharp as he teased away the torn sleeves of her shirt.

'No, that was _your_ fault,' she snapped back swiftly and softly. 'You know, when you grabbed me and made me cut – _ouch_.' She tried to pull away without any success.

'Don't _move_,' frustration laced his voice as he took the opportunity to rip apart the sleeve of her shirt. 'Look, we need to clean this wound so it doesn't get infected.' He poked at it some more before adding, 'It doesn't look deep enough to need sutures but I'll have to check in the light. Come on, let's go upstairs.'

She was tempted to retort something about his 'medical degree' but the possibility that he did actually have one occurred to her. Better to suffer in silence than sound stupid. She followed him, treading carefully, each step feeling around to make sure she wasn't stepping on something. Or _someone_. Which reminded her, 'Hey, you sure there aren't any zombies upstairs?' She hated the nervousness that had seeped into her voice. He clearly recognised it, turning around and giving her what was probably meant to be a reassuring smile. _Idiot_.

'Yeah, we cleared the place out. It's kosher.'

Cleared the place out? Her eyebrows quirked but she forbore from asking him further questions, for now. The instincts that had helped her survive an infamous career as _The _Evil Queen was returning and she was more than willing to utilise them. And that included biding her time until she could gain the upper hand.

Reaching the top of the first flight of stairs, she winced as the floorboards creaked beneath her feet as she walked down the corridor, eyes darting left and right as she followed the inky image of his back in front of her. With senses on high alert, it wasn't missed by her that his steps were cautious with ease, treading lightly and apparently avoiding all of the creaky boards she managed to step on.

He stopped halfway down the corridor, knocked gently twice. 'It's me, Dean,' his voice rumbled low in both tone and volume and the part of Regina that had slept with all and sunder felt the tendrils of an urge to make that voice do quite different things. She pushed such thoughts aside. She was here to find her son, not someone to enjoy sexual encounters with and just like that, the cold, sharp hands of fear squeezed her heart again.

She took dramatic strides into the room, giving an air of ownership, and doing so with intention. It hadn't taken months of marriage to a bastard of an old king to realise that it wasn't a case that people _could_ use any weakness against her, it was a case of they _would_. And she wasn't one to not learn from mistakes.

When she turned around, she saw the guilelessness of a teenager and her face automatically softened. There was no malice within his youth, even as he looked guarded with a pinched face. Her Henry might look something like that in a few years time, hopefully without the watchful look in his eyes. _Abused_, no doubt. She'd seen eyes just like his more times than she'd care to recall. She turned to look at her presumed _saviour_, the word souring her mood. Her eyes confirmed what she'd already suspected – tall, well built, beautiful green eyes with blondish spiked hair, he's sure to have had many women swooning. She acknowledged his attractiveness with pure indifference, the fear for her son overriding all other thoughts, making her itch to be out and about, searching for him.

'Is the room to your liking?'

She turned to look at him again, his tone gently mocking but his eyes quite kind. It unnerved her – she hadn't seen such an expression directed at her in a long time, not since the soldiers had killed the guards and started the revolt proper. She shook the memories away – she was Regina Mills now, mother and mayor (always in that order) and she had no need to remember the dark times when suicide had been the only solution. 'What's the plan?' She asked instead and she saw his expression change. It was much later that she recognised it as respect.

'You in any rush?' He said lightly, but it was careful, as careful as his eyes watching her.

'Yes, I am,' she snapped back, eyes narrowed and quickly reassessing the situation. She was ready for fight _or_ flight and knew which one would give her the most satisfaction right now.

'Business meeting?' He asked with mock sympathy and the presumptions prickled at her. Always judged and never given the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes she wondered if some bitch of a fairy or witch had personally cursed her life.

'Try missing son,' she hissed back and she could feel the energy of magic tingling at her fingertips. She hadn't used magic in such a long time that it's a surprise to find a part of it, at least, was muscle memory. She flexed and extended her fingers, stretching them and tested her magic, only to find that it wasn't obeying her. It pissed her off even more.

'How old is he? When did it happen?' And just like that, Regina felt wrong-footed again. Dean's face had undergone a transformation, all playfulness vaporised and a frown crowned his visage, eyes suddenly bright and alert, serious.

'Why do you care?' She bit back, mistrusting everything about him.

'We'll help you,' the young boy surprised them both as they turned to stare at him. Colour rose in his cheeks and formed an odd contrast to his sandy hair. 'Or...well, _I'd _like to help you. If you want it, I mean.' He fell into a bashful silence under Regina's surprise and Dean's small smile.

'We both would,' he agreed. 'How old is he and what happened?'

They watched each other closely, Regina's eyes narrowed with suspicion again and no hint of trifling marring Dean's face. Eventually, Regina gave in with a sigh. Not that she really expected much help from either of them. 'Henry, he's ten, bright for his age,' she can't help but let a little pride shine through. 'He ran away, well, abducted, technically,' she corrects herself.

'By the dad?'

'No, by his birth mother,' she responded. 'I love him, he's _my_ son,' she raised her voice, quick to perceive disapproval before biting her lip, forcibly taking a breath. It wouldn't help her if she managed to attract the zombies outside.

'I don't doubt that,' the constriction in her throat was painful, too painful to speak around, when she looked up and caught the sincerity in Dean's eyes. 'Why else would someone be running through a zombie apocalypse? When did he go missing? Where do you live?' He's parting the curtains and looking through the window and there's an irrational, fear-instigated part of her that wants to pull the curtains together. What if they see the light on inside the bedroom? What if they get surrounded?

She straightened her back reflexively; she'd kill everyone and everything if she had to, to get to Henry, to save him.

'He's not been gone for more than a few hours. I saw him before I called it a night at eleven.'

'Do you think he ran away on foot?'

Not for the first time, Regina wondered if the guy was a cop or something. His shrewd questions suggested a familiarity. Maybe a PI? She'd kill herself if he ended up being a bail bonds person like Ms Swan. 'No, his mother's got a car. A yellow bug thing,' she sneered at the thought but Dean's response again gave her food for thought. After uttering a strangled 'what', his face contorted as if he was in physical pain. Shaking his head at heaven, he motioned her to continue. She merely ignored his antics. 'I'm positive he's with her. She's from Boston and _this_ city is the closest one. I thought I'd be able to catch up with her here.'

'Where are you from?'

'Storybrooke,' she answered. 'Yeah, I know. Trust me, the place is worse than the name. It's about three hours north-east.' She ignores the probing green eyes and turns instead to the yellow-haired kid. 'Who're you?' She demands, not intentionally brusque but not unintentionally so either.

'Phil.' His voice is soft with gentle eyes, and Regina felt her heart aching again. No kid should go through whatever he's gone through. The light in the room is meagre but enough to show the bruises decorating him. 'What's your name?'

It's no woman that's been hurting the kid, Regina knows that for sure. His eyes are wide but not fearful when they stare at her. There was a time when she would have taken great pleasure to force that fear into him, when it would've been the only thing that banished her own fear. 'I'm Regina.' She offers her name curtly but within them is a promise for this kindred soul.

'We need a plan,' her attention is diverted to the older man as he spoke and she looked at him, at the stubborn curl of his mouth, at his green eyes that held an unsettling glint. The more she watched him, the more she became certain that he was not some stupid foolhardy hero but someone that held at least an iota of intelligence, possibly even common sense. Maybe she shouldn't despise him and his help so much? 'We know that these zombies,' he seemed to spit out the word and Regina couldn't quite decipher the emotions that passed across his face. 'Move faster in daylight, slower in the dark. They're slow and clumsy but the herd aspect has us at a considerable disadvantage. The best time to move would be just before it gets light and just before it gets dark.'

'Wouldn't it be better to move in the dark?' Fear was spread across the young boy's face. _Phil_, across Phil's face.

'We won't be able to see them as easily,' Dean shrugged, his full lips surprisingly thin. 'The daylight might help them but I'm hoping it'll help us more.'

Regina had to admit that she saw the logic in that. The mother in her was screaming to get out, do anything to help her baby but the throb in her arm was evidence enough that the world out there wasn't harmless.

'It's not going to be dawn for another couple of hours,' he said as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He seemed to be genuinely put out and Regina wondered at that. She was certain it wasn't on her behalf, not entirely, so what else was making him itch to leave and get out there? Saving lives? She bit back a snort. Chances were that they would be doing a lot more killing than saving.

'Get some rest,' he nodded at the blonde. Phil opened his mouth to argue but one stern look from Dean and he quelled under it. 'Regina can keep me company and we'll sort out the plans.'

As she took a seat in the chair by the window, she could hear Phil grumbling under his breath and this notion was so domestic, it made her want to pour acid all over it. Burn it down because Phil was _not _her son and Dean was even less to her than the kid.

'We'll find your son,' the words drifted to her, not comforting or reassuring but demanding, forceful as if come what may, they will achieve their ends. She blinked away tears that had arrived unannounced. Such paltry words would not be her undoing but when she looked at him, sitting next to her, he held a face she'd seen a million times in the mirror. He had no visions of Good triumphing Evil or that All Will Be Well In The End. He knew just what the world was like outside, what could easily happen. Regina found that she didn't mind an idiot like him so much.

'We will,' she agreed, her face set. Silence reigned until Phil's breathing steadied in sleep. Regina readied herself for the question, uncertain of its reception. 'Why are you so keen to get going?'

'I've got family I'd like to get back to, too,' Dean answered staring outside the window. His face gave nothing away but his eyes…

She looked away, shifting in her chair to find a comfortable position to wait out the couple of hours until dawn. It prickled uncomfortable at her that the silence was companionable.

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><p>Troubled dreams had Henry clenching his eyes during sleep and when he woke up, he felt as tired as when he had first gone to bed. It took him a few seconds to realise where he was, his eyes darting around the room. <em>Mary Margaret's place<em>, that's right. Emma – his Mom – had tried to run away but he didn't want to. It wasn't the _right_ thing to do. He stepped outside the bedroom, loud voices drifting up to him. What time was it? Maybe he could miss school – Emma looked much easier to convince about this sort of stuff than his mom – no, _Regina_ – than Regina had been. He was considerably discontented but not sure why as he crept down the stairs.

The words began to make sense. Mary Margaret was upset that Emma had tried to run off without telling her. Emma was defending herself, saying that it was more important to do the best for Henry. It occurred to none of them, not even Henry, to mention that Henry _was _family whilst Mary Margaret was _like_ family, unless they believed that she was Snow White.

Hope rose, only to nosedive. No, Emma had made it abundantly clear that, even if she did believe him, she didn't care about the curse. Some _saviour_, a spiteful part of Henry uttered only to be pushed away, deeper and deeper down until Henry couldn't really remember that he had ever thought such a thing.

'Henry,' Mary Margaret poorly attempted to disguise the heated conversation they were having. 'You're up,' she stated the obvious.

'Yup,' he said, glancing between them, feeling acutely awkward. His mother had always been more direct with him, addressing issues like these head-on (except for the fairytales, of course), so this situation had him at a loss.

'Want some breakfast, kid?' Emma smiled at him, and as usual, it held a hint of guilt and strain but Henry never noticed it. 'Want some bagels? Maybe a milkshake before school?'

'Sure,' Henry smiled brightly. Didn't that just show the difference between Evil Queens and real mothers? Regina _never_ let him have milkshakes unless it was a special treat. He never noticed the disapproval on Mary Margaret's face or the snort Granny let out.

'It's delicious, Mom, thanks,' he told her before taking another big mouthful of the milkshake.

'Not a problem, kiddo,' Emma smiled, though her eyes remained sad. It was overwhelming, this child of hers that she had given up. She never should've, never, but if there was a way to change the past, she hadn't found it yet. The burden of guilt was hers to bear and she would rather do anything before she let another hurt befall her child. And that included Regina, she thought grimly. It was clear that the woman didn't love her son and it bothered her that he had been stuck with such a vile woman for years. How bad had the abuse gotten? Was it verbal and physical as well? It sent a fire burning through her veins, the urge to _fight_, _fight_, _fight_ but she curbed it. Not now, with Henry chugging away at the milkshake and not this way but she _would_ save Henry from Regina; if she had to destroy Regina, so be it.

'I'll drop you at school when you're done,' she said, taking a small bite from her bagel, though her appetite was all but nonexistent.

'I don't think I'm feeling so good, mom. Can't I stay at home? With you?' Emma almost scoffed. Henry's face had gone from cheerful to woebegone. She wasn't fooled in the slightest _but_ he wanted to spend time with her. She would have had to have a heart of stone, _or be heartless like Regina_, to refuse his request.

'Fine, but only for today. You're back in school tomorrow. Don't think you're fooling me,' she warned him even as a smile tugged at her lips. Her son wanted to spend time with her. What could possibly be wrong with that?

As soon as the food was gone – the milkshake had disappeared in a shockingly swift time – they made their way outside, leisurely strolling through the streets so alien to Emma's own childhood. They both savoured the moments, pushing away the fact that they had already missed out on so many, and it wasn't long before Henry had directed them to the local park. Perching themselves on the swing, they rocked gently back and forth.

'Did you come here often?'

'Yeah, when I was little,' he stated simply and Emma looked at him, pursing her lips, wanting more information, wanting to know everything but unsure how to ask it.

'Did you enjoy it?' She settled for finally.

'It was okay,' Henry shrugged off the question. How could he answer that? Before he'd found out the truth, he used to come here and play and he remembered summery sunshine and wintery wind and autumn leaves and spring flowers. It had been nice but it was all tainted now. Regina wasn't his mom, had never been and sometimes, it still hurt like the first time he found out. Emma interpreted his answer to her own liking and chose to revel in this moment, the kind that had been denied her in her childhood.

It never occurred to her to question why Regina wasn't banging at her door, demanding her son back and threatening reprisals.

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><p><span><strong>Author's Note<strong>**: **So just in case people had ideas or questions, this is a definitely Regina-centric story and it will portray her past in a slightly more sympathetic light. There will eventually be interaction between Henry, Gold, Mary Margaret/Snow, Emma and Regina and I have a huge history with lots of back-story and mythology all worked out. It will be a bit of a saga, so bear with me. If you have any questions about pairings, friendships, etc, all I can say is that I like to keep these things mum because I think it's much more interesting to read something if the reader doesn't know the end-game. Having said that, I daresay you may have speculations and I would dearly love to hear about them and discuss them with you (without giving any answers away).

For those that watch Supernatural as well as Once Upon A Time, the brother/companion story to this is **Dean Winchester at Zombie Ground Zero**. You don't need to have any knowledge of Supernatural or this other story to read this one. They can both be read as stand-alone stories.

A big thank you to **ShadowCub **and for favouriting this story.

A big thank you to **Athlantic**, **Canis Mesomelas**, **ShadowCub**, and for following this story.

**Guest: **I hope this chapter was long enough for you. I was hoping to get a little more filled in but the length was such that I decided to end it at those points. Do tell me if you would prefer the chapters to be even longer, though.

**ShadowCub: **It was so fantastic to get a review from you. I have to admit, that one episode really annoyed me. There's a considerable predisposition within the show that the Birth Mother is always the best mother, which I strongly disagree with. I think motherhood has a lot more to do with treatment of your child that genetics but that aside, I also thought Mary Margaret's self-entitlement in relation to Emma's action was completely ridiculous. Emma had just committed a criminal offence – regardless of whether you think Regina is a good mother but Emma is a better one, that definitely deserve precedence over not saying goodbye to a friend, regardless of how close they are! I tried to address that in this chapter but I will aiming for a more balanced view of all characters from henceforth. But if you do get the chance to read this chapter, tell me what you think.

I know this is quite non-mainstream as far as OUAT is concerns, and your positive response made this all worthwhile. I hope you continue to enjoy reading it and enjoying it.

Even if you don't enjoy it, I'd love to hear your views, so I can improve my writing.

Enjoy.


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